


Happy Anniversary

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Anniversary, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, January 29th, John Watson went rogue on me, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, When characters write themselves, this was supposed to be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: A fluffy little one-shot in celebration of the January 29th anniversary (the day Sherlock and John met and became flat mates <3)





	Happy Anniversary

Sherlock flopped down on the sofa with a heavy sigh, curling himself in around his knees the way he usually did when he was in one of his moods. Most of the time, his moodiness came from too many days spent moping around the flat out of boredom, but today should have been anything but boring. If he was truly honest with himself, his extreme irritability was hardly ever warranted, but he would be hard pressed to admit that to anyone else. Today, however, he felt that he was quite clearly deserving of a good strop.

After the past two years of acknowledging the day by waking up to breakfast in bed, overly-sentimental notes and cards, and the day’s first round of celebratory sex, the detective had been quite disappointed to wake up to an empty flat with nothing but the sound of his mobile chirping incessantly at him. It had taken Sherlock several minutes to process the things he was feeling as he bypassed the texts from Lestrade and checked the date on his phone just to be sure he hadn’t gotten it wrong. January 29th; just as he’d thought. 

Doing his best to shake the looming sense of dejection, the detective had made his way through his morning routine in order to shower and dress for the day. As he had made his way downstairs, he learned that John had apparently dropped Rosie off with Mrs. Hudson before rushing off to pick up a Saturday shift at the clinic. The news of John’s change in schedule should not have come as a surprise to Sherlock since he was under the impression that they told each other everything, but unfortunately it had. As their landlady had asked him about his plans for the day, her usually cheerful demeanour did nothing to quell the painful prickle in his chest. Plucking his mobile from the pocket of his Belstaff, he had held it up and gestured to the door as he explained that he was needed for a case.

Sherlock had begun to feel grateful for the distraction of meeting Lestrade, anticipating that the case he had called him for would have taken up all of his morning and most of the afternoon. However, he had underestimated how incredibly thick all of Scotland Yard could be and the very intriguing 8 he thought he was walking into turned out to be the most mind-numbingly ridiculous 2 he had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Who on earth couldn’t identify the difference between two very distinct types of cigarette ash by scent alone? 

Ugh…

The detective pulled the worn fabric of his blue dressing gown tighter around his torso as he settled deeper into the couch. He had never before paid any special attention the the dates on the calendar; not Christmas, not New Year’s, not even his own birthday. That is, not until John Watson had limped into his life nine years ago and given them merit. The real problem wasn’t that John had come along in the first place, but more so the things that he was good at; the things he had changed in Sherlock’s life. He had a way of taking the mundane, repetitive aspects of life and making them into something extraordinary. The talented ex-army doctor had even managed to take Sherlock himself and transform him into someone the detective never even knew could exist. 

It was this version of himself that Sherlock had begun to resent in the past few hours. The version of himself that found significance in the silly terms of endearment that John called him; the Sherlock that accepted the melodramatic sentiment that John had insisted they tie to the date they had met; the Sherlock that was sulking on the sofa over the mere fact that he was spending said date completely alone.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, the detective pulled himself up into a sitting position and slipped his mobile out of the pocket of his dressing gown. The display lit up as he checked for any missed messages or calls from John only to be let down once again. Feeling even more resentment toward himself, Sherlock clutched the phone in his left hand and burrowed back down into the sofa, curling the phone against his chest.

 

*****

 

John smiled as he brushed the remaining snowflakes from his greying blonde hair, his heavy boots clunking loudly on his way up to the sitting room of 221B. He had had such a busy day and was very eager to warm up with his detective after his walk home in the cold. The doctor paused just outside the door and listened for the sounds of Sherlock going on about his day, but, oddly enough, the room beyond was completely silent. Strange…

Turning the handle and stepping inside, John removed his coat and hung it up as his gaze fell on his partner’s sleeping form curled up on their sofa. The sight filled his heart with a familiar fondness as he allowed himself to slip closer to his sleeping detective. He sat down on the arm of the sofa and stared down at Sherlock’s chiseled features. The warmth in his chest began to spread throughout his body and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and brush a stray curl from his partner’s forehead. He let the backs of his fingers trail over the detective’s temple as he tucked a section of hair behind his ear, admiring the soft furrow of his brows and his barely-parted Cupid’s bow lips. 

The longer John looked, the harder it was to suppress the soft smile that played on his lips. Some days, it was still hard for him to understand how he had gone from such a miserable, bare-bones existence to having everything he could have ever wanted. It had been nine years to the day that he had met his ridiculously mad flatmate and, even though they hadn’t had the easiest of times, John knew that they had been led down these paths for a reason. Although it was no secret that John had fallen for Sherlock the moment the words “Afghanistan or Iraq?” had left his lips, he found that he was extremely grateful that he hadn’t made a move on the younger man back then. The past nine years had been a whirlwind of heaven and hell, but it had made them both into the men they were today. After Sherlock’s fake suicide and everything that had happened with Mary, John found that he had a whole new appreciation for his partner. He knew what it was like to pine for him; he knew what it was like to mourn him; he knew what it was like to have the detective breathless beneath him and moaning his name. He was quite certain nothing on earth could have ever prepared him for just how much he had grown to cherish the feel of that last one. There wasn’t a single thing on earth that could compare to the sound of his name on Sherlock’s lips as he came.

 

A subtle shift of Sherlock’s shoulders drew John out of his thoughts and he brushed his fingers over his partner’s cheek. Tired eyes blinked up at him and the doctor smiled softly.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to the detective’s forehead before nuzzling his stubbled cheek. “So glad you could join me,”.

Sherlock huffed as he pushed himself up and slid just out of John’s reach. “Oh... You’re glad that I could join you...?” he scoffed, shooting John a look of pure indignation. His pale blue gaze was laced with hurt and irritation. 

John blinked at him in surprise, completely taken aback by the sudden accusatory tone. He ran his hand back through his windswept hair and let out a nervous chuckle as he spoke, “Um, yeah… You were sound asleep when I got home. I thought you might be up and about was all. You almost never nap,”. His words were cautious, watching his partner for any cues that may explain what had upset him.

The detective only raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, marvelous observation, John. Bloody brilliant, you are. You’ll be the next Albert Einstein with that level of intelligence,” he spat in response, raising his voice as he jumped up from his place on the sofa. He stepped up and over the coffee table in an attempt to maneuver around John, but the doctor was quicker. 

John reached out and caught Sherlock by the wrist, spinning the taller man around to face him. His shoulders had tensed up at the insult and he felt his jaw clench when their eyes met. “Just what the HELL is your problem? I haven’t seen you all day and you’re treating me like I’ve just ruined your latest experiment! If you’re going to be angry at me, the least you can do is explain what it is I’ve done to piss you off!” 

John hadn’t meant to shout; he really and truly hadn’t. Sherlock’s eyes were blown wide in disbelief. They stared at each other in silence for what felt like ages before Sherlock glanced down at the doctor’s grip on his wrist and tried to snatch himself free, failing miserably. 

“Sherlock…” John pressed, his voice not coming out nearly as evenly as he had hoped for as he tightened his grip on Sherlock’s wrist. 

The detective stood stock-still in front of him, aggravation radiating off of his skin in waves. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he clenched his fist and closed his eyes. “I woke up alone, today… No note, no text, no phone call. No form of communication from you at all during the course of the day, “ his voice faltered during the last sentence and he paused to swallow before he continued on, beginning to pace as his nerves got the better of him. “Two years ago, something this basic and ridiculous would never have had any affect on me whatsoever. But, that was before you turned up and put some sort of significance on it all. A silly date marked on your calendar that doesn’t mean anything to anyone else all of a sudden has the power to break me. I never asked for this; I never asked you to make me into this. Sentiment rarely ever has a productive purpose in life, John, and -“

“Sherlock, stop!” John raised his voice to get Sherlock’s attention, taking both of the detective’s hands in his own as he made an attempt to pull him close. After a moment of struggling, the doctor wrapped his arms tightly around the taller man’s waist and pressed his forehead to his chest. “Sherlock… what on earth are you talking about, love? Please, just calm down and explain it to me,” he coaxed, trailing his fingertips up and down his partner’s spine.

The detective tensed for a moment under John’s touch and tried to steady his breathing. He let his eyes drift closed and focused on the way the doctor’s fingertips grazed the soft fabric of his dressing gown. How did John really not know what was wrong? Had he truly forgotten such an important day? Didn’t John understand what it all meant to him?

“Hey… come back to me, love…” John whispered, pressing his forehead against Sherlock’s lips. “Focus and tell me what happened,”.

Instinctively, the detective pressed a soft kiss to his partner’s skin and brushed his lips over his fringe. The gesture grounded him and gave him something to concentrate on as he thought about what he really needed to say. “John… you forgot… this morning, when I woke up, I woke up alone. You weren’t there to kiss me good morning. You weren’t there for breakfast…” his voice trailed off as he felt his partner nodding his head against his lips.

As the words tumbled from Sherlock’s lips, John felt the pieces click into place in his mind. The routine... He had deviated from their yearly tradition and broken Sherlock’s routine. He had grown accustomed to the way they had done things the past two years and had come to expect it this year, as well. No wonder his partner thought that he’d forgotten…

“The routine…” John answered, pulling back to watch the detective’s reaction. “Jesus, Sherlock, I didn’t forget our anniversary, love. How could I? Yes, for the past two years, I’ve brought you breakfast in bed, given you some small token of my affection, and pulled you back into bed for a go… but, this year, I just wanted to do something different. I wanted to do something a bit more special, you know... Listen, wait right here, ok?” he asked, slipping out of Sherlock’s arms and taking a step toward the door.

As the detective started to nod his head, his head snapped up suddenly. “John, wait.”.

The doctor stopped before he could open the door and looked back over his shoulder, waiting for him to finish.

“Your present,” Sherlock muttered, staring at the floor, “I-I have something for you…”. He glanced up at John through thick lashes and the doctor smiled at him affectionately.

“Tell you what…” the shorter man began, “Run get yours and I’ll just nip down and get mine for you, alright?” he suggested, winking at his partner.

Sherlock nodded his head and made his way into their bedroom as John closed the door behind him.

 

*****

 

It wasn’t long before Sherlock was back in the sitting room waiting for John with an elegant black box perched on his knee. He had put quite a bit of thought into his gift for John and hoped with all his heart that the wonderful man he loved would be able to see the affection in it. In all truthfulness, Sherlock wasn’t exactly the best gift-giver. Usually opting for practical gifts that one would actually deem necessary in life, the whole sentimental concept sort of went well over his head more often than not. This time, however, the detective had gone to great lengths in hopes of finding the perfect gift for his partner. 

As his thoughts drifted away with him, Sherlock almost missed the soft click of the door opening and closing before he looked up to see John slipping back into the room. He was empty-handed as far as Sherlock could tell, but that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have something tucked into his pockets. 

John’s smile was genuine and wide as he tugged the hem of his old oatmeal-colored jumper down and leaned back against the door. “Well, are you ready?” he asked, trying hard to contain his excitement. 

Sherlock felt the corners of his lips turning up in the type of grin that usually doubled his chins and made him look ridiculous, but he was finding it hard to care. John’s excitement was contagious. He nodded his head and got to his feet, holding his gift box out to the doctor who crossed the room to take it. 

The shorter man leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before stepping back with his present. “Ta, love,” he said with a wink. 

John tugged at the silver ribbon tied delicately around the box and let it fall to the floor. He raised his eyebrows at the detective in anticipation as he lifted the lid and it was then that his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. Tucked gingerly between the black velvet folds was a brand new, state of the art stethoscope. The sleek silver and navy blue color scheme made John’s breath hitch in his chest as he took in all of the important details of the gift. It was unlike any gadget he’d ever seen before. His eyes darted to Sherlock’s as a hundred questions flooded his mind.

“It’s a Littman 3200; electronic,” the detective stated, gesturing to the stethoscope. “It has onboard recording and playback capabilities as well as a Bluetooth setting that allows you to transmit your recordings to your computer in real-time. From there, you can perform further analytical testing, attach the recordings to patient medical records, or even share them with other medical professionals online to discuss your findings,”. 

As John’s jaw dropped even further, Sherlock’s smile widened. “Sh-Sherlock…” the doctor sputtered, blinking through a fit of breathlessness, “Sherlock, there’s no way I can accept this. It-It’s too much…”.

His protests fell on deaf ears as the detective closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. “John, yours must be at least 15 years old by now. The technological advancements that have been made during that time are tremendously useful and would make your job so much easier. Not to mention, it’s something I took great care in choosing and I want you to have it,”.

Sherlock’s words were straightforward and sincere, making it nearly impossible for John to argue with him. Tucking the black velvet lining back around the device, the doctor set the box down on the coffee table and pulled Sherlock forward into a hug. He held him tight for a few moments before tilting his chin up and capturing the detective’s lips with his own, drawing a desperate whine from the taller man’s throat. The sound sent a shiver down John’s spine and he pulled back to break the kiss with a quick peck. 

“Thank you, Sherlock… that’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” he said with a look of pure adoration. John licked his lips as Sherlock inclined his head in acknowledgment and he felt his excitement building once again. “Now, it’s your turn,” he whispered, “Close your eyes for me,”.

The detective huffed out a short laugh, but did as he was told, humoring his partner. “Really, John? I’m not five, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head in an attempt to listen for clues that might give John’s present away. No clever retort came, however, and Sherlock heard the sitting room door open and close as John seemed to be struggling with something rather awkwardly. 

“Here,” John finally answered, sounding slightly out of breath. “Why don’t you sit down in your chair? I’ll guide you,” he stated, reaching out to take Sherlock’s hand in his and led him over to his chair, helping him settle. After making sure everything was just as he wanted it, he let go of the detective’s hands and sat down in his own chair. “Alright, you can open your eyes, now,” he whispered, biting down on his bottom lip.

Sherlock cracked one eye open and glanced at John before opening the other and his gaze automatically fell on the light blue hatbox at his feet. A dark blue bow sat atop the lid and he could have sworn he heard a soft shuffling sound coming from inside it. His brow furrowed instantly in confusion before he quirked one eyebrow up and shot John a look of concern. The doctor chuckled and raised his eyebrows in return, still chewing his bottom lip.

“Go ahead, open it,” John grinned, his eyebrows dangerously close to disappearing into his fringe. He propped his elbow on his knee and closed his navy blue eyes for a moment, letting his head rest in his hand. When he opened his eyes again, they were full of warmth and love.

It took everything Sherlock had in him to tear his eyes away from John’s and turn his attention back to the present at his feet. He tugged one of the tails on the bow and watched as it unraveled beneath his fingertips. Hooking his index finger under the edge of the lid, he felt something inside pushing it up and open. As the lid fell to the floor, Sherlock gasped, his entire body frozen in surprise. Inside the box sat a small Irish Setter puppy.

Peering up at the detective, the puppy’s soft brown eyes searched Sherlock’s face as it tilted its little wet nose up to sniff at him. A brilliant blue ribbon, matching the one that held the lid closed, was tied around its neck in a similarly perfect bow. The puppy pushed itself up on its hind legs and put its front paws up on the edge of the box, stretching its nose up to seek out the touch of its new companion. 

“Sherlock…?”

John’s voice crashed through the silence like a freight train even though Sherlock knew he was speaking quietly. The detective’s eyes darted up to meet the doctor’s and the uncertainty he saw there nearly shattered his heart.

“Sherlock, he’s yours….” John said, dropping his gaze to the furry head poking up out of the hatbox, “Unless you don’t want him that is, which is perfectly fine… It’s… It’s all fine, but he has something for you…”. 

“John…?” Sherlock blinked again, questioningly, and turned his attention back to the puppy as he slipped his hands up under his front legs before he lifted him out of the box, cuddling him against his chest. He pressed his face into the soft fur on top of the puppy’s head and breathed in the scent, letting his hand drift to scratch under its chin. As he scratched, he felt something small and heavy bump against his fingers and his eyes met John’s briefly before he held the puppy up to examine the ribbon around his neck. 

Threaded delicately through the ribbon was a dark metal wedding band with a thin strand of diamonds accenting its diameter. Mind reeling, Sherlock tugged the ring free from the ribbon and held it up in front of his face, trying his hardest to understand before he glanced back up at John once again.

The doctor’s expression held a mixture of love and pride and his smile was so wide it nearly split his entire face in two. “Well… what’dya say?” he asked, licking his lips, anxiously, as he flicked his attention to the ring and then back to his partner.

Sherlock eyed the ring suspiciously. “What do I say to what?” he asked, keeping his tone cautious and guarded.

John chuckled, almost incredulously, and licked his lips again as he let his shoulders slump, “The ring, Sherlock,”. He reached over and plucked the ring from the other man’s fingers and held it out, presenting it to him with firm determination. “Marry me?”

The question hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks and he felt his entire body go numb with realisation. John Watson was asking for his hand in marriage. The puppy in the detective’s arms whimpered as it stretched up to lick at Sherlock’s chin and he heard John’s infectious laugh across from him. It was then that the younger man realised he hadn’t given his partner an answer to his question. As he glanced up at John’s face, he saw the same unwavering love and kindness from before and he couldn’t stop his own smile from spreading across his features. He nodded his head and felt a heavy blush creeping up his neck. “Yes, John… Yes, I’ll marry you,” he answered, his voice nearly a whisper, but John heard it all the same. 

The doctor surged forward to kiss him hungrily and slipped the ring onto his slender finger, admiring it as he pressed their foreheads together. The puppy licked up at both of them as they cuddled close and John bent his head to let it lick over his face before he kissed it on the nose. The sight sent a flurry of emotions stampeding through Sherlock’s chest and he pressed a kiss to John’s cheek in silent appreciation.

“Hamish?” the detective said, a cheeky smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Hmm?” John hummed, looking up at his partner in confusion.

Sherlock chuckled and tilted his head toward the puppy. “His name. I was thinking that Hamish sounded like a strong, noble -”

“No,” John cut him off, abruptly, shooting him a pointed look. “Try again, Sherlock. We are not calling this dog Hamish,” he answered, his eyes signaling that the topic was no longer up for discussion.

Sherlock let out a defeated sigh, “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to keep thinking, then,”. He smiled playfully and raised his left hand to pet the pup on the head, John’s ring on his finger catching his attention immediately. John’s ring… The detective dipped his head to press another kiss to his new fiance’s lips and smiled when he seemed to have caught him off guard. 

“Happy anniversary, John…”

“Happy anniversary, Sherlock,”.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was totally supposed to be smut... and then, John went rogue on me and fluffed the shit out of this *le sigh* And I mean, that little mother fluffer fluffed HARD lol He was supposed to give Sherlock a gift then take him to bed... not give him a puppy and propose *rolls eyes* Oh well! Lol hope you enjoyed it anyway LOL


End file.
